


Baby, It's Cold Outside!

by Pastaaddict



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America wants him to stay, Christmas Fluff, England has to go, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Song fic, under the same name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastaaddict/pseuds/Pastaaddict
Summary: It's cold outside, just ask America and Britain!





	Baby, It's Cold Outside!

**Author's Note:**

> I heard the song and thought of this. Enjoy!  
> I don't own Hetalia or Baby, It's cold outside!

 

 

_**Baby, It's Cold Outside!** _

 

“Dude, do ya have to go?” America whined as Britain got up from America's sofa to get his coat. “Come on, it's cold outside.”

 

Truth was, Britain did not really want to go as he passed the enormous Christmas tree that had a few gifts under it, including one from Britain to America that he had brought with him. Like America said, it was cold outside. In fact, it was snowing hard and the thought of leaving America's nice warm house was not one that filled Britain with enthusiasm. Aside from that, Britain loved America's company although he would never admit it out loud.

 

Britain often complained about what he called America's 'childishness' but he found himself endeared to his former colony's antics which made him feel less weighed down by all the centuries he had existed. Britain was over fifteen hundred years old and, sometimes, he felt every one of those years and he often wondered just how China felt at four thousand plus.

 

And then America would do something and it made the years fall away and made Britain feel young again. At only a few centuries old, America was pretty much a child in Nation terms but one who had grown up very fast. Too fast in Britain's reckoning but maybe that was why America was still emotionally childlike sometimes. As a Nation, America did not really get much time to be one and as an adult (at least physically) America was trying to live the youth he never got much time for.

 

Britain was physically only twenty-three but he sometimes felt like the old man France and sometimes America would accuse him of acting like but then America would do something and Britain would feel light-hearted and young again, no matter how he acted to the contrary.

 

One of the reasons why Britain fell in love with America.

When Britain said he was going to stay a while after the World Meeting to visit with him, America was delighted. Despite his occasion tease about Britain being like an old man sometimes, America found that …. attractive. The traditional gentleman behaviour was a bit of a turn on if America was honest and even Britain's tsundere attitude made America want to hug the Brit. He could fake not caring all he liked but America, who was not as clueless as he made out, knew that Britain cared a great deal.

 

One of the reasons why America fell in love with Britain.

 

And America did not want Britain to leave yet. It had been nice having him here, once he had unwound a bit. With Christmas just around the corner, they had done Christmas things, even built a snowman outside, although encouraging Britain to make Christmas cookies with him had been a mistake that resulted in calling out the bomb disposal team to defuse the oven.

 

They had finished off the day drinking cocoa while watching _The Polar Express_ that Britain had stigmatized as a _kid's_ film but was engrossed within a few minutes and sat with his head resting on America's shoulders.

 

But now Britain was leaving and America wanted him to stay so when Britain took his coat, America grabbed it from him, making the Brit huff with annoyance.

 

“America,” he admonished. “I have to get back to my hotel. I'm catching the plane home tomorrow.”

 

“It's freezing out there, Iggy,” America replied, grabbing one of his hands. “Come on, dude. Your hands are already freezing.” Britain pulled his hand away.

 

“No, they're not,” he denied. “And don't call me Iggy!”

 

“All right! Artie!” Britain sighed. “But you don't wanna go out there in all that snow. Why don't ya stay here, I've got plenty of room.”

 

“I have to collect my suitcase and check out in the morning,” Britain replied. “I could miss my flight if I stay here and if I'm late getting back home, Ireland will plague my phone every five minutes and Wales will have a fit. He's such a mother hen sometimes and Scotland will wear a rut in the floor, pacing.” America looked confused.

 

“I thought you and your brothers hated each other?” he asked. Britain shrugged.

 

“Do, don't,” he replied, reflecting on the complicated relationship of the British Isle brothers. “Depends on the time of day. Point is, I don't want to listen to the wankers whining at me. Besides that, if I don't catch this flight, I'll be stuck here for Christmas.” America leant toward Britain, smiling.

 

“I wouldn't mind, ya know,” he said. “Call 'em and tell 'em ya staying here, then ya don't have to hurry off.”

 

“America,” Britain groaned.

 

“Where would ya rather be?” America asked. “Out in the snow or in front of a roaring fire?” Britain looked toward the wood logs burning merrily in the fireplace and had to admit that it did look tempting.

 

“Maybe I'll stay for one more drink,” Britain conceded. He was almost blinded by America's killer watt smile.

 

“Put some music on,” he grinned. “While I get the drinks.”

 

* * * * *

 

Britain turned on the radio which was predictably playing Christmas songs while America brought in drinks, beer for him and a glass of something for Britain. Britain briefly wondered how America got alcohol when his ID said he was nineteen and the drinking age in the States was twenty-one and then decided that America had either got his government to arrange something or he had a fake ID somewhere.

 

“What would your neighbours think if I stayed over for Christmas anyway?” Britain asked, sipping his drink and finding the taste somewhat familiar. America took a swig of his beer.

 

“That I'm having a friend over for Christmas,” he replied. “Besides, it's not their business and it's 2018. Most people don't care these days.”

 

“Is there rum in this?”

 

“You're an ex-pirate so I thought you'd like it.” Britain hummed. He did like his rum.

 

“I really should go after this,” Britain said.

 

“Dude, have you seen it out there?” America replied. “You'll freeze and you won't find a cab in all that, not around here. Come on, Britain, stay for Christmas!”

 

“I have plans back home,” Britain sighed.

 

“Cancel 'em,” America replied. “Ring ya brothers and tell 'em your plane's been cancelled.”

 

“They'll check.”

 

“Then tell 'em I'm sick and you're staying here to look after me,” America suggested, moving closer to Britain. “Any way, you put that woolly hat on, you'll end up with hat hair.”

 

“That's not even a valid argument,” Britain retorted. “Besides, you hate my hair.”

 

“I said your hair is messy,” America pouted. “I never said I hated it.” America ran his fingers through Britain's hair, ruffling it up even more and making the Brit blush.

 

“Any way,” America cooed. “I like your hair messy.” Britain found himself staring into America's sapphire eyes with just a hint of puppy dog and felt like he was falling under America's spell with no way to break it. And he was supposed to be a magic user.

 

“I really should say no,” Britain said as America got even closer and put his arm around the Brit's shoulders.

 

“You don't wanna be with me,?” he pouted. “I'm hurt, Britain. How will my pride recover?”

 

“Oh, I'm sure it will,” Britain quipped. “It usually does but I just can't stay.” America just smiled as he stared into Britain's emerald eyes.

 

“Why are ya holding out, Artie?” he said. “Ya know ya wanna stay. Come on, stay where it's warm.”

 

“America, I really can't,” Britain replied. “I should go.” America pouted.

 

“How are ya gonna get back to your hotel in knee-high snow?” he said. “You'll freeze before you reach the end of the block.” America laced his fingers between Britain's, enjoying the thrill of the contact.

 

“Just stay for Christmas,” he begged. “I got everything we need for a great holiday. Plenty of food and drink, plenty of wood for the fire. We haven't had Christmas together for a long time so please, Britain, will you stay?”

 

“America, it's been great but …..” America moaned.

 

“Why are ya doing this to me, Iggy?” he whined. “What if you die of Pneumonia or something after going out into the snow? Do ya want me to be sad for the rest of my life?”

 

“Don't be silly!” Britain replied. “You know Nations can't die of Pneumonia, America.”

 

“Whatever!” America said. “How about I just want you to stay for Christmas. Please stay for Christmas, Artie?” And gave Britain the wide, pleading eyes and Britain felt his resolve wavering.

 

“But the other nations will talk,” he replied, weakly. “I can just hear France implying all kinds of things already.”

 

“Stay, Iggy!” America pouted again but this time it was his patented pout that tugged at everyone's heartstrings. Britain groaned as America's lip began to tremble. Britain hated it when America did the lip thing. It made him very hard to say no to.

 

“America …..”

 

“Please!” The trembling lip was joined by sad eyes with the hint of tears in the corners, making America looked like a kicked puppy and there was almost an audible sound as Britain finally cracked.

 

“I better tell my brothers I won't be home for Christmas,” he sighed, taking out his phone. America gave out of childish cry of joy, pulled Britain toward him and planted his lips on Britain's. After pulling away, he dashed off while Britain laughed as he called home to break the news to his brothers.

 

After some cajoling and arguing, Britain's brothers, not being able to compare to America when it came to persuasion, particularly over the phone, let Britain go with a 'be back for New Year, yer wee shite!' from Scotland. The British Isle Brothers always spent Hogmanay with Scotland, on pain of death and Scotland said he could even bring the American if he tried to get Britain to stay with him for New Year.

 

Britain had just ended the call when America came back into the room, carrying a big bag and he went over to the tree. Out of the bag came present after present that went under the branches and Britain knelt down to look at the labels.

 

_To Britain_

 

_Merry Christmas_

 

_Love America_

 

“You were counting on me staying for Christmas, weren't you!” Britain accused. America stood up with a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“Yup!” he replied, not even denying it. Britain looked at the gifts America had put under the tree for him, There had to be at least a dozen.

 

“I only brought you one gift,” he complained.

 

“Who cares!” America declared, putting his arms around Britain and pulling him close. “You already gave me the best present. You're staying for Christmas.” Then he bent down and took Britain's lips in a long, lingering kiss.

 

“Just so you know,” Britain replied after the kiss ended. “There's only one reason I'm staying.” America smiled.

 

“And that is?” he asked, knowing what his tsundere boyfriend was about to say and Britain did not disappoint him.

 

“It's cold outside!”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> America's puppy dog pout gets them every time ;)


End file.
